Once Upon a Time
by Malathyne
Summary: When you are nobody, who else to tell your story to than another nobody? -Luxord, Namine. No pairing intended.- "I pray your ending will be happy."


**Prompt:** #61 Fairy Tale  
**Fandom:** Kingdom Hearts  
**Characters:** Luxord, Naminé  
**Pairing:** none  
**Other Pairings:** none  
**Warnings:** none  
**Disclaimer:** Mild OOCness, perhaps?  
**Other:** I really don't like this. XD I think it sucks ass, but, hey. There aren't enough good Luxord fics. There are even LESS about his Somebody. x-x Poor Luxord is so unloved...

Also: Timeline? What timeline? Pffft. 8D;;; I'm pretty sure Naminé wasn't under the Organization's control by the time Luxord had to go fight Sora -- after all, Kairi was one of the ones whisked away by Luxord's (godforsaken) cards. BUT, UH. ... ... fuck you, timeline. 8D;;

**...qp.qp.qp...**

"Would you like me to tell you a story, Naminé?"

Naminé blinked and looked up from her sketchbook. It was the first thing Luxord had said all day. He had been assigned to watch her. She assumed it was because Saix had kidnapped Kairi and Sora grew closer to the World That Never Was each day, and the Organization did not want Naminé interfering, as she'd proven herself wont to do lately. She wasn't bothered; she'd been "babysat" before by the twelve members (Roxas was never allowed near) -- including, of course, Luxord. His silence was uncharacteristic, and it made Naminé uneasy -- before, he had been all grins and charisma. As unsettling as his silence was, Luxord's question caught Naminé off-guard.

"Um... all right."

Luxord settled back in his chair and crossed his legs, idly shuffling his cards. "Once upon a time..."

"A fairy tale?"

"... would you prefer another?" Luxord raised an eyebrow.

Naminé flushed. "N-no, it doesn't really matter. It's just..."

"Just what?"

Naminé shook her head. "Never mind."

"Very well, then." Luxord went back to shuffling. "Once upon a time, there lived a young prince."

"In a big castle and everything?"

"No; rather, a palace."

"What's the difference?"

Luxord glanced at her, irritated. "Do you want to hear the story?"

Naminé hid her face behind her sketchbook. "Sorry."

"... the young prince did not live in just any palace, but the most elaborate and beautiful in all the land."

"Did the palace have a name?" Naminé paused, then ducked behind her sketchbook again.

But instead of reprimanding her as she expected, he stopped to think. "Lyr Palace," he said after a moment.

"Lyr. That's a nice name."

Luxord nodded absently and continued. "The prince of Lyr Palace was not like by his people. While his father was the king, his mother was only the king's concubine -- one he bought from a foreign land, at that. The people did not like him for this, yet he was the king's only son, and as such, the only heir." He paused and, as an afterthought, added, "Destined to rule."

Did he sound... bitter? Naminé shook it off as her imagination. "That's a silly reason not to like someone, because of their mother."

"It was the way things were," said Luxord simply. "This prince was told, over and over again, that he was chosen by God and fate to become king, by soothsayer, noble, and servant alike. He came to accept this fate, and devoted himself to the task he was 'meant to do.' Despite his devotion and absorbant mind, he was naively unaware that he was being set up to become a puppet on the throne." Again with the bitter tone. "All around him, things fixed into place: his future advisors, his crown name, how many children he ought produce -- everything. All decisions were made fro him, and, as he believed all was fated, he did not interject. In doing so, he gave up the control of his future -- of his very life -- to his 'fate.'"

Naminé listened with wide and curious eyes. "What happened to him?"

"He was coronated on his eighteenth birthday, as per custom," Luxord continued dully with a wave of a hand. "He became king, married the princess to whom he'd been betrothed at birth, sired three children -- two sons and a daughter... "

"What were their names?"

Luxord hesitated. Uncertainty flickered across his face as he...

_As he what?_ Naminé wondered. _As he searches his memory?_ She blinked. Then, was the prince...?

"Mariene," Luxord said at last. "The princess -- the queen -- was Mariene. The eldest son, Dorese, and the younger, Lyr IV... and the daughter, the youngest child, was..." Again, uncertainty clouded his eyes for a moment. "Arin."

"Pretty," Naminé hummed. "_Mariene_... Pretty."

"... yes."

"So," Naminé leaned forward, "what happened next? Did the kingdom live in peace? Did the prince -- I mean, did the king live happily ever after?"

"No."

"Why? What happened?"

"The Heartless came. The end."

Naminé blinked and leaned back. "Oh..." she said softly. Briefly, her hands touched the surface of her sketchbook. "... that's so sad."

"Not all fairy tales have happy endings, Naminé."

"But... Did the king love his queen?"

"No, he did not love her."

Naminé considered the question she wanted to ask next. Carefully, she ventured, "What was the king's name?"

Luxord did not reply. He collected his cards into one stack with one smooth motion, and with another, he dismissed them to a place where he would be able to call them when he needed to. "The time I have been required to stay here has passed," he said. He turned and summoned a corridor of darkness.

"Luxord?"

"... yes?"

"Have you met Sora?"

Luxord hesitated. She could tell he knew why she asked. She waited for him to calculate the price of the honesty of his response. "Yes," he answered finally, "I've been on a successful mission to utilize him and his Key." Again, he paused, weighing information. "I have been told to dispense of him should Xigbar fail."

Realization lit up Naminé's eyes. "Ah..."

"Farewell, Naminé."

"Good-bye, Luxord," she said softly, sadly.

"I pray your ending will be happy." Luxord stepped into the portal. "Happier than mine, and the king's."

And he was gone.

Naminé sat in silence for a long time. Finally, with shaking hands and a heavy (_non-existant_) heart, she picked up her sketchbook and her pencil. She closed her eyes. The (all too) well-known network of chains hung and shimmered within her mind's eye. Mentally, she reached out and plucked the chains here and there, searching. At last, she found them, the memories she'd been searching for. She ran her metaphorical fingers gently along the chain, feeling the individual links. Feeling the familiar inspiration rise within her chest, she opened her eyes and began to draw.

As she sketched, she continued to search the links for the fine details that would give her drawing life. She couldn't keep going for long; she stopped, not even half-way through sketching the skeletons of the scenery. The memory of these emotions -- and, the later lack thereof -- were powerful.

Curiosity. Devotion. Passion. Fury. Desperation. Hope. Regret. Guilt.

She watched the story unfold in a dreamlike state. It told of a boy who felt, passionately, and believed in the innate goodness of the heart. It told of a man who came to know the betrayal upon him; who came to loathe the stars and the fate they bestowed upon him; who, in the end, despite the strength of his heart, could not save his country or family. It told of a Nobody who refused to bow down to the will of an unspeakable force; who, in vengence, controlled the said force -- for time ruled the longevity of life; for time was fate itself -- who betrayed and guiled his way into favorship in the Organization without batting an eye.

Naminé cried. She cried for the dreaming boy, for the betrayed man, for the helpless man. She cried for Luxord, for those who he hurt, for the hurt he did not feel, would never feel.

And she cried for that naive young man, kept alive in the back of the mind of an emotionless Nobody. For, if Luxord had let Dorul truly die, he would not have been able to pretend to feel.

**...qp.qp.qp...**


End file.
